


Period of Adjustment

by writerdot



Series: Disquietude [3]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 01:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10547408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerdot/pseuds/writerdot
Summary: Wilson's brother, Danny, asks to see him. AU after "Out of the Chute."





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing House smells when he opens the door and steps into the loft he shares with Wilson is tomato sauce. He frowns, because he doesn’t hear anything, and Wilson tends to be loud and jubilant when he’s cooking. So, he walks further in toward the kitchen, sees the thick red mess peeking out from behind the center island and his first thought is to proclaim that he didn’t do it.

But that’s before he sees Wilson sitting on the floor, with his back against the hard counter, his knees pulled up and his forearms resting on them. Next to him is a pail of water, a sponge next to it, as though Wilson had every intention of cleaning up the mess he’d made…but couldn’t do it.

House sets his back-pack and jacket on top of the island, and approaches Wilson cautiously.

“Wilson?”

Wilson looks at him, as though just realizing where he was and what he’s doing. He looks at the mess on the floor and curses. Grabbing the sponge, he dunks it into the water.

“Wilson, what the hell,” House moves forward, as quick as he can, and grabs the soapy object. He tosses it back into the water and moves the bucket away from his lover with his cane.

“Come on,” House says, leaning down and grabbing Wilson’s arm. Wilson looks like he’s about to protest, but a glare from House makes him see the futility in that, and he gets up with a huff and some awkward fumbling.

Once they’re both standing, House plants a hand in the middle of Wilson’s back. “Walk.”

“Aren’t you going to read me my rights first?” but the sarcastic comment comes out less caustic and more weary.

House puts pressure on Wilson’s shoulders until he’s sitting on the couch, so close to the edge that he will fall off if he makes any sudden moves. House sits on the coffee table in front of him, puts his cane against the couch next to Wilson, and looks at his face.

He supposes, considering the look on Wilson’s face after he’d realized he’d been sitting in front of his recently tomato-painted floor that he’d be pissed off, but instead Wilson looks nervous, confused and the weariness he’d heard in his tone etched in the lines in his face. 

“What happened?”

“Got a call,” Wilson answers quietly. “Got distracted and knocked the bowl of spaghetti sauce to the floor.”

“Okay,” House says slowly. “Who called?”

Wilson takes a deep breath. “Before I tell you that…I need to tell you something.”

House’s first instinct is to be worried. Things have been going so well for them over the last year and a half, since they moved their friendship into something more, and Wilson helped him get back off the Vicodin. But after all they’ve been through, House tells himself that anything to do with their relationship would have had Wilson being a lot more composed. That tomato sauce would have been cleaned, and dinner would be cooking along as usual, as though nothing was ever wrong at all.

“What’s wrong?”

Wilson pauses for a second, then blurts out, “I lied to you three years ago.”

Bewildered, he answers, “About…what?”

“About Danny.”

House senses that this is going to be a story that will be a hell of a lot more comfortable when he’s not sitting on the hard coffee table. So he sits carefully next to Wilson, and says simply, “Go on.”

“Do you remember how I talked about our meeting…how anti-climactic it was?”

“Yeah,” House answers, thinking. “You said you wanted me to meet him…that you were going back next week. I never went.”

Wilson smiles, but there is no amusement in it. “Yeah. I never went back either.”

“You lied about how it went.”

“Yeah.”

House leans back against the couch and stretches his arm across the back of it. “What really happened?”

“I told a semi-truth. We were strangers, but it was worse than that. It was…he didn’t even recognize me. He thought I was some doctor who was there…someone that was going to ‘keep stuffing useless shit down his throat.’ No matter how much I tried to convince him that it was me that I was his brother, it didn’t work…he became belligerent and began getting physically violent. The orderlies came in before it got any where near what it could have, he didn’t even manage to get his hands on me, but I left. I just left him in that room. Stopped in the hallway to calm myself down. Then met you in the waiting room again.”

“It ended before it began.”

“Yeah,” Wilson whispers. “On the way home, I had thought about going back the next week…to try again. You and I talked when we got back here and you, without knowing you were doing it, reassured me about it at the time. I was all set to do it. I called and made the appointment…took the afternoon off. When the day came, I couldn’t do it. I kept remembering what he looked like when he was coming at me the week before and I couldn’t go. Then everything with you happened and you went to rehab…and it just….”

House doesn’t say anything, knowing there’s more. He just curls his arm around Wilson’s shoulder and waits for him to continue.

Wilson takes in a shuddering breath and does just that. “All this time, I managed to put him out of my head. I let myself believe that my brother really was gone, like the coward I am and I…” he stops and shakes his head.

“The hospital called tonight?”

“Yeah,” Wilson confirms. “He’s asking to see me.”

“You were protecting yourself,” House says slowly. “It’s not often you do that. It doesn’t make you a coward.”

“You’re trying to make me feel better.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you to do it,” House counters.

Wilson meets his eyes and smiles a little. “Thanks. I just…”

House understands what he isn’t saying. “So, go see him. Do what you didn’t do then…try again. It’s already different. He asked for you this time.”

“Maybe,” Wilson answers doubtfully. “I need to think about this awhile.”

“Okay.” House looks back to the kitchen, where the smell of tomatoes is starting to get stronger. Wilson’s gaze matches his and he sighs.

“I should probably get that cleaned up before it stains the tile.”

House nods, though he couldn’t care less about the color of the kitchen floor; it’s the idea of slipping and falling in it that seems less than appetizing.

Wilson gets up and moves toward the kitchen, saying something about ordering pizza on the way.

Agreeing, he pulls out his phone and dials their usual pizzeria. 

*****

That night, he opens his eyes with a start, and can’t tell what exactly woke him. He glances at the clock and sees the time, before turning his head and realizing that Wilson isn’t asleep beside him.

His lover is staring forlornly at the ceiling, looking so deep in thought House gets the distinct feeling Wilson hasn’t slept at all.

“Hey,” he whispers softly. Wilson turns toward him and blinks.

“Sorry,” he says. “Did I wake you?”

“No. Have you slept?”

“Not really. I tried to when you fell asleep, but I just…insomnia rearing up again, I guess.”

House nods, remembering Wilson’s bouts of sleeplessness when things in his life are being upended; divorces, some of House’s more dangerous antics…and now this.

House doesn’t know what to say to help, so he reaches out and settles a hand on Wilson’s shoulder. He squeezes gently.

“Do you want me to do anything?”

Wilson looks a little confused for a second, but leans a little more toward House, their foreheads touching, and grabs House’s fingers. He squeezes back.

“Thanks for asking, but no.”

House searches Wilson’s eyes, sees the uncertainty there. “Okay.”

Wilson smiles tightly and closes his eyes. He doesn’t fall asleep though, House knows this because he stays awake, too.

*****

House really does intend to let Wilson think it out. But Wilson’s not just restless at night….when he’s not able to distract himself from making this decision by taking care of his patients, he alternates between staring off into thoughtful space and fidgeting madly, as though he’s trying not to think about it.

So, naturally, House’s mind starts to form a plan.

He sits on it for a couple of days, lets it form. This is important to Wilson and it would be best not to screw it up. This could go either very badly…or as well as it could under the circumstances.

On Thursday, four days after Wilson told him the truth about his interaction with his brother, House goes to Cuddy’s office, barges in the door and stands in front of her desk.

“We need to take a few days off.”

Cuddy looks at him, pausing in the middle of her paperwork, her pen practically in mid-air. House grins at her innocently.

“Preparing for the apocalypse?”

“Been there, done that. So two years ago, Cuddy.”

Cuddy snorts a laugh and folds her fingers together. “Why do you need time off?”

“Wilson and I,” House corrects. “Need three days off to go to New York.”

“Why?”

House wants to lie…tell her some crazy story that she’d never believe just to see the vein in her forehead pop through. But they’ve come a long way, too. And he needs this. 

“We’re going to see his brother.”

Cuddy looks at him, surprised, then that surprise flows into suspicion. “Does Wilson know you’re going to New York to see his brother?”

“Well...define ‘know.’”

Cuddy sighs and sets her pen down. “House.”

House waves a dismissive hand. “What do you know about the relationship between Wilson and his brother?”

Cuddy frowns in confusion. “I know that he’s in the psychiatric wing at New York Mercy….and that you and Wilson went to see him a few years ago…other than that, not much. Is there more to it?”

House had expected that much. “Yes…but Wilson only told me a few days ago.”

“Okay,” Cuddy answers slowly.

“He doesn’t think he can go,” House continues. “I think he needs to. And if he does go, I want to be there.”

“House,” Cuddy says again, shaking her head. “Whatever happened, I appreciate that you want to protect him…but you can’t get him to go if he’s not ready.” She holds up a hand to forestall his forthcoming protest. “You know I’m right. Tell you what, you tell him that you’re both going to New York to visit his brother, and I will give you both that week off.”

House stares at her and blinks. “Seriously?”

Cuddy looks at him steadily. “Yes.”

House nods slowly. “Okay.”

“Good,” Cuddy answers him resolutely. “Have him, him, House, call me and let me know. Now, get out. I have a lot of paperwork to do.”

*****

When House gets to Wilson’s office, he looks at closed door, before searching out Wilson’s assistant. When he sees her standing at he nurse’s station, he walks up to her, affects his best charming grin and leans against the counter.

She is immediately suspicious. “What can I help you with, Doctor House?”

House knew that had been a long shot. She’s been around too long to not be skeptical of him.

House looks back at Wilson’s door again, to make sure there’s no sign of him, and turns back to her. “I’m taking Wilson away for a week. I need you to help me clear his schedule.”

She turns her head, and her eyes narrow. “Is he going to come back alive?”

House rolls his eyes. “Would you talk to Wilson that way?”

“Doctor Wilson has never called me, pretending to be Doctor Wilson, to tell me that I need to make an appointment for a guy with ovarian cancer.”

House shrugs; the girl’s a point. Not to mention that it wasn’t one of his best gags. “Fine. And yes, he’s coming back alive. If you want, call Cuddy and confirm that I asked for the time off.”

Her narrow-eyed gaze sits on his face for a second. “I’m going to do that.”

“’Kay,” he says, knowing he’s getting what he wants. He turns around and limps to Wilson’s door. “Also, I’ll come up with a better joke next time.”

Sandy rolls her eyes as she dials on the phone.

House barges into the office in time to see Wilson shoving the drawer to the file cabinet closed. Wilson apparently senses him in the room, probably because he’s Wilson and always seems to know things about House…and also because House doesn’t really have a quiet setting. He grins at this thought as Wilson look at him wearily.

“Can I help you?”

“Actually,” House answers cheerfully. “I’m here to help you.”

Wilson blinks. “I thought you’d been a little too quiet the last few days.”

House exhales and twists his cane in his fists.

“Imadeanappointmentandwe’reseeingyourbrotherinNewYorkandI’mgoingwithyouandCuddy’sgivingusaweekoffifItellyouinsteadofjustkidnappingyou.”

He pauses and breathes quickly, as though this sentence completely wore him out. Then he grins innocently. “Gotta go save some people. See ya!”

He’s half-way out of the door when Wilson calls him back in. He pops his head back in Wilson’s door. “Sorry. Did I go too fast?”

Wilson doesn’t say anything for a moment and House finds that he’s just a little afraid of his reaction. But there is no trace of anger in Wilson’s expression. Resignation, maybe, and indecision. Just a little hope, that makes House wish, even more, that, if they do this, it works out differently than it did the first time.

Wilson swallows and tilts his head, motioning for House to come further into the office. House does so, and closes the door.

“I told you that I wanted to think about it,” Wilson says.

“I know.” House moves closer to him but is careful not to touch him just yet. “But I think if you didn’t try this, try it, then you would regret it now, even more than you regret what you didn’t do three years ago.”

“And you’re all about not having regrets?”

House shrugs. “Don’t see the point. Everything I’ve been through got me where I am now. But I know you and it’s how you operate.”

“Because I’m a co-”

“If you call yourself a coward, again, I will hit you,” House warns. His words are belied by the gentle tone and slow movements toward his lover. He leans on the side of the desk, his cane between his knees, in front of Wilson and looks at him.

“Listen to me, Wilson,” House says firmly. “Okay? You told me once that you loved me for me. Don’t talk,” he says, when Wilson opens his mouth. “That you would stick by me no matter what decision I made that night about the Vicodin. I have to admit that at first, I didn’t believe it, because why would you stay with me? Have a relationship with me when I was on it? And then I realized that I still had the Vicodin. My very last bottle...I hadn't given it to you yet. I was holding it, and you were looking at me, not that bottle and I got it then.”

“We got through it,” Wilson whispers. “We’ve come a long way.”

“We did and we have,” House answers. “You’ve always…been here, Wilson. Even when you weren’t here…you were here.” Wilson smiles at that and House continues. “Like I said, protecting yourself from getting hurt is not something you normally do, not really.”

“He’s my brother.”

“You said it then. You are, and were, strangers,” House counters. “You don’t know the person he is now. He didn’t know who he was then.”

“I’m not sure that I believe that. We may have to agree to disagree.”

House shrugs. “Okay. As long as we agree with my point of view and disagree with yours.”

Wilson snorts with amusement, but his face quickly turns thoughtful. House watches him, watches the emotions roll across his face and House finds that he can’t just watch.

“Wilson,” he whispers gently, and doesn’t clarify until he’s sure that Wilson’s eyes are on his, that he’s paying attention. “Let me help.”

Wilson’s gaze doesn’t leave House’s as he takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Good,” House answers. He pushes off the desk and wraps his arms around Wilson’s back. “And next time, all you have to do is ask. Since you won’t share your mind-reading powers, I can’t always tell when you need something, too.”

Wilson shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“Don’t apologize,” House interrupts. “I know, before we got together, that I never really gave you a reason to think you could definitively count on me to be there.”

“I’ve never held that against you and you’ve been there for me plenty of times since then.”

House is a little skeptical of that, since helping Wilson through a migraine, flu, and broken ankle aren’t really the same as helping him get through something that could very well turn his life upside down, but Wilson continues talking and he lets that thought go. 

“This is just…not something I’ve dealt with with anyone else. Once we found him again, my parents and brother pretended that he’d been at some nice little vacation resort. Before that, they never really dealt with him being gone. I’ve been used to thinking about this on my own…old habits die hard on that front.”

“I know. Still, ask.”

“Right.” Wilson walks forward, and House uncrosses his ankles so Wilson can step between them. When Wilson’s forearms are resting on his shoulders, House’s hands grab Wilson’s hips and pull him forward for a kiss.

“Thank you,” Wilson says, once they’ve stopped to breathe. “For being interfering and pushy.”

“Can’t really remember a time I’ve been thanked for that before,” House says, affecting a mock thoughtful expression.

Wilson grins gently. “First time for everything.”

“Yeah. Hey Wilson? You better call Cuddy and tell her I told you.”

Wilson looks confused, and then understanding spreads across his face. “Ah, yes. The week off. If I’m supposed to confirm with her, how were you going to make sure I did that if you left like you did?”

“I figured you would call me back in here like you did and we’d talk about it.”

“Okay….and just coming in here, sitting down, and telling me like a…oh, wait. You’re you.”

“Oh good,” House teases. “I was afraid you were getting me mixed up with someone who isn’t me.”

Wilson snorts and steals a kiss, then backs away with a squeeze to House’s shoulders. “Get back to work. I’ll call Cuddy.”

“I’ll just stay here a second…leg hurts from leaning against this desk.”

Wilson looks concerned, and ready to ask if he has his meds with him, but understanding makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “You made the appointment…and you’re coming with, right?”

House nods resolutely as he plops down on Wilson’s couch, facing him.

As Wilson moves to make the call, he stops as if something’s just occurred to him. “Does she know about what really happened?”

House figures he could be angry by that question, but he understands why it’s asked. “No.”

“Sorry, I had to ask. I should have told her after I told you. It just hasn’t come up.”

“Stop apologizing, Wilson,” House says with a roll of his eyes. “You don’t have to explain.”

With a decisive sigh, Wilson picks up the phone, holds it to his ear and meets House’s eyes when Cuddy answers the phone. “Hey Cuddy…yeah…he told me. Actually, do you have a minute? There’s something I want to tell you about that visit.”

*****

House wakes up the morning of their visit to New York, tosses his arm to Wilson’s side of the bed, not really expecting Wilson to actually be there. If he’d been restless before (and that certainly hadn’t abated after Wilson had confirmed House’s plan to Cuddy), House can only imagine how he feels today.

When he’s confirmed correct, he flips the covers back, grabs his cane and leaves the bedroom. The apartment is a little too quiet, which means that Wilson isn’t cooking. As he gets to the kitchen, he notes Wilson sitting at the island drinking a cup of coffee from the lone mug in front of him.

Wilson turns toward him and smiles, but House sees the weariness and nerves there. “Did you sleep?”

Wilson shrugs, takes another sip. “There’s coffee in the pot.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I remembered what we talked about asking you for help,” Wilson answers. “But I didn’t see the point in both of us being exhausted today. Trust me, I’ve got that covered. I did want to ask, though. I know it might be hard on your thigh, doing it, but…”

“I can drive,” House interrupts immediately, liking the rush of feeling when Wilson smiles at him.

“Thanks.” Wilson looks down at his mug and fidgets with the handle. “The last time I did this,” he says hesitantly, as though he’s trying to get his thoughts in order. “I expected…well, I had expectations from it. I’m trying not to do that now. I want to go with a blank slate.”

“You can’t.” House looks at him steadily. “You’re you. You worry, you think…you protect everyone but yourself. Have your expectations. Just remember this time, I will be in that room with you. He makes one wrong move…” House trails off, holds up his cane threateningly.

This time Wilson’s laugh is loud and slightly unexpected. He must think so too, when he gets his bearings back, because he looks like he isn’t quite sure what to do next. “I, uh, should eventually get a hold of my parents about this, too.”

“Get through the first meeting, Wilson. Then worry about that step.”

“Okay,” Wilson answers with a nod, standing up. "You're right." He walks around the island, puts his mug in the sink. “Appointment’s at 2?”

House nods, but doesn’t say anything, since he’s told Wilson that over and over the last few days. “Right,” Wilson says absently. “We should leave at 11 to get there with plenty of time. It’s just after nine now…I’m going to jump in the shower.”

“Okay,” House says, sipping his coffee. As Wilson scurries off to the bathroom, House is definitely glad that he’s the one who will be doing the driving.

*****

They get to New York Mercy at 1:30 as traffic was a little heavier than expected. House sits next to Wilson in the psychiatric wing, again and Wilson is alternating between getting up and pacing, to sitting on the bench, his knee shaking nervously and his bottom lip between his teeth. The third time he does this, House becomes afraid he might be chewing his own lip off so he gently sets a hand on Wilson’s shaking knee.

Wilson looks down at it, stops shaking and squeezes his fingers, then looks back at the closed door of the waiting room

When the orderly comes in at 2:02 (he knows, because Wilson tells him) and tells them they’re ready, House gets up, and limps after the orderly.

He doesn’t get all of the way out of the door when he realizes that Wilson is not following. Looking back, he sees Wilson, with his shaking knee, wringing hands, and red, swollen lip. The expression on his face so nervous that House finds himself standing in front of his lover. He meets his eyes and holds out a hand.

Wilson takes a rattling breath and grabs it, levering himself up. He lets go of House’s hand and steps in beside him, and they both follow the orderly down the dark hallway, to a room, where the door is closed, but there’s a small glass square of a window.

“The door needs to remain open once you step inside,” the orderly explains. “When you’re ready to leave, just let us know, and we’ll escort him back and you guys out.”

Wilson doesn’t say anything, and House acknowledges this explanation with a terse nod. The orderly opens the door and they both step inside.

House’s first impression of Daniel Wilson is that his physical appearance is everything he’d expected it to be. He’d seen pictures, the few that the Wilsons had had in their home when he’d gone there, ones that had the three Wilson brothers posing together when they were younger. He’d had a fair amount of idea what Danny would look like. He also knows that while Danny is younger than Wilson, he easily looks ten years older.

However, when Danny sees his brother, the smile that spreads across his face is so staggeringly similar to his lover’s that he almost gasps in surprise.

“Hi, Jaime,” Danny says softly.

Any tension that Wilson had been carrying over the last week sweeps out of him as though it never existed. House watches it happen and he understands…this visit is already vastly different than the last. Wilson steps forward, pulls out the one of two chairs at the table, and sits, a smile on his face, also.

“Hi, Danny.”


	2. Chapter 2

Cuddy always expects House to just barge into her office like he owns the place. It used to be every day. Since he and Wilson have been together, though, it’s bumped down to every other day. More time than that and Cuddy asks Wilson if everything is okay, because House hasn’t harassed her in a while.

But the second day after he and Wilson come back from New York, it’s the second day he comes in, quietly, and sits on her couch. The first day they chatted about the week off, but stayed clear of the visit with Wilson’s brother. She knows it went well, because Wilson came back looking tired but more content with the situation than before they’d gone. When she’d asked him about it, he’d said it went well.

But there’s clearly something bothering House.

“Okay, either you’ve pissed Wilson off and he sent you in here to get rid of you for awhile, or you’ve done something to a patient and you’re coming in here to throw me off. Want to tell me which one it might be?” she teases gently, looking at him.

He looks at her with not a little amusement, but twists his cane between the open palms of his hand, a sure sign that something is bothering him.

“All right,” she says, as she pushes her chair back and stands, making her way to the couch to settle next to him. “Spill.”

“I think I made a mistake.”

“What do you mean?” she frowns, because Wilson (and House for that matter) haven't come to vent about their relationship, lately, so it can't be that.

“With pushing Wilson to go see his brother,” House elaborates impatiently.

“I thought it went well,” she answers, confused. “I talked to him about it, he says Danny is on Invega Sustenna and he’s doing better.”

House is nodding. “Yeah, yeah,” he says dismissively. “It went well, except that the night we got back…he had a nightmare and has had two more since.”

“A nightmare.”

“Yeah, the first time woke me up because in his thrashing around, he hit my face.”

“Well, at least it wasn’t your thigh.”

“He sleeps on the wrong side for that.”

Cuddy groans and she looks at House to see him grinning. “Okay, I opened that door.”

“You kind of did,” he retorts, before sobering. “He wouldn’t tell me what it was about. Said he couldn’t remember.”

“Did it occur to you that maybe he really doesn’t remember?” Cuddy says gently.

“Sure it did,” House answers. “And maybe he doesn’t. But I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“They exist.”

House glares at her and she concedes that argument. “When does he go again?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Okay. You know what you can do?”

“Try to talk you into giving us another week off?”

“Nice try.” She pokes his shoulder. “I know you wanted that time off before because you thought it would go wrong and that he would need time to recover-” She cuts herself off at the look on his face. “Was I wrong?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Okay, then. It didn’t go wrong. So, you don’t need that time off now.”

“It could go wrong this time.”

“Yes it could,” she accedes. “But if you go on with that attitude, it may rub off on him and it could very well do exactly that. So, here’s what you do.”

He looks at her as though he’s really waiting for the answers.

“Keep going with him. Until he tells you he’s comfortable enough to go by himself.”

House blinks. “That’s it?”

“Nope. Stay with him through the nightmares. If…if they are about his brother, for whatever reason, you listen to him if he remembers them. Just be there for him if he doesn’t.”

“That’s…”

“Not what you wanted,” Cuddy interrupts, leaning her chin on her wrist, her forearm resting on the back of the couch near House’s head. “I know. But sometimes that’s all you can do.”

House looks like he’s about to argue with her some more, but before he can think up something suitably scathing, his phone goes off.

He picks it up and looks at the screen. Cuddy watches as the corners of his lips turn up and she smiles, knowing who it is.

“Gotta go,” he says flippantly, grabbing his cane and standing up. “Got an unexpected date.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t he buy you lunch every day?”

House shrugs. “Sure. But he—wait, how did you know it was Wilson?”

“You got this…mushy look on your face. Who else could it be?”

House looks absolutely horrified. “I do not get a—shut the hell up.”

As he turns out and strides pointedly from her office, her laugh follows him down the hallway.

*****

“So, I was thinking, tomorrow night, you could do more than watch…I mean, you are my partner. I’d like him to get to know you, too.”

“Sure.”

“Maybe we could bring him something to eat…something he doesn’t get in that place. When we were kids, he loved double fudge ice cream. I’m sure the personnel wouldn’t mind. Maybe I should call them and ask, just in case.”

“Or I could smuggle it in.”

Wilson looks thoughtful. “I’ll call them.”

House shrugs and snatches a fry from Wilson’s plate. His lover is paying no attention to his theft, as he’s still babbling on. House lets him do it…and thinks about the one thing he didn’t tell Cuddy…

He just really hopes that Wilson doesn’t get hurt.

*****

“…I really think…no, mom, I know. But I saw him last week and he’s doing so well…It wouldn’t hurt for all of us to go up there and see him together.”

House watches from the couch as Wilson pinches the bridge of his nose as he paces in front of him. He has the sudden urge to get up and grab Wilson to get him to stop moving back and forth, but he resists.

“All right.” Wilson sighs. “Okay. Sure, I’ll call you next week. Love you, too. Bye.”

Wilson sighs and tosses his phone onto the nearest arm chair as he plops gracelessly next to House on the couch.

“No luck?”

Wilson shakes his head wearily. “No. I’d hoped that waiting until after we went for the second visit last night that I would have more to report on him, so they would come. I did and she still has excuses. I’ll try my brother tomorrow.”

House wants to ask if Wilson thinks it’s a really good idea to get him involved, considering what he’s heard of Wilson’s brother’s history of behavior, but he doesn’t. He can tell that getting his whole family back together again is important to him, and it can’t hurt to try, right?

House tosses his arm against the back of the couch, until his forearm is resting behind Wilson’s head. Wilson rests his head on it gratefully.

“So, it’s you and me,” House says.

“Looks that way.”

“We did manage to get that ice cream in. We could bring in something else next week.”

Wilson peers at him. “They gave us permission for that. And we’re not smuggling in beer to the psychiatric ward.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that,” House mutters. Wilson slants a glance at him. “Tequila. We can do shots. Well, maybe he shouldn't, but that's no reason we can't.”

Wilson snorts, but House sees the amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “No. We can do the ice cream again.”

“Fine.” He taps the side of Wilson’s head. “Dinner?”

*****

As the days go on and their third visit passes, House begins to relax a little.

Which he’s cursing himself for after the fourth visit.

Wilson is currently sitting in the passenger seat, his head resting against the passenger side window, watching the passing lights as House drives. House glances over at him from the corner of his eye.“I’m sorry.”

Wilson sighs tiredly. “Bound to happen sometime.”

“You know they’d said he’d been having a bad couple of days. They need to adjust his meds again.”

“I know.”

House watches the road, and thinks about how utterly useless he feels right now. It’s not a feeling he particularly likes. Especially since this is something he can’t fix.

Suddenly, he feels familiar fingers on his own as he grips the steering wheel. Glad that Wilson chose a red light to do this, he looks down and grabs the fingers back, keeping his other hand on the wheel. Wilson’s not looking at him, but House finds that that’s perfectly okay when Wilson intertwines their fingers, resting them on the console between them.

House drives one handed the rest of the way home.

*****

House begins to think, when Wilson makes the third phone call to his parents after the fifth visit (that had gone marginally better than the last), that it won’t be the sick brother who will hurt Wilson.

“Mom, he asked about you this time. Can’t you reschedule your damn party to see your—fine. You know what, I have to go.”

Wilson doesn’t seem to give her the chance to answer as he slams the phone shut angrily.

“I’ll try Adam again,” Wilson says frustrated. “I couldn’t get a hold of him last time, but it can’t hurt to try again.”

And when Wilson’s woken up from another nightmare that night, House really, really wants to do something about that, too.  
*****  
It’s the seventh visit that he realizes that he has just as much power, still, to hurt Wilson as much as his parents and brothers do.

He limps into Wilson’s office as he’s packing up his things for the night.

“Hey, you read—what’s wrong?”

“I can’t go tonight,” House says gently. “My latest patient keeps throwing new symptoms at us and we’re having a tough time keeping up. I was hoping she’d be more stable by this time and she’s not. I’m sorry.”

Wilson nods, and House knows that he realizes that if there was any way he could handle this over the phone on the way there, he would. House hates it when Wilson turns an understanding gaze on him.

“I understand,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. I’ll be home later tonight.”

House nods and Wilson gives him a chaste kiss on his way out the door.

House doesn’t miss the uncertainty on his face at the thought of going alone. More than anything, he wants to yell at Wilson, call him back, tell him to wait up, but he can’t, because his team is already calling him, and when he turns back in the direction Wilson had walked, he’s gone.

“Come on, idiots. We need a differential.”

*****

Wilson’s late.

House knows this because he’s done nothing but look at the clock. He’d gotten home about a half hour ago, after the third differential where he’d gotten his epiphany. He’d expected Wilson to be there already; they usually get home around ten, and it’s almost midnight.

When his phone rings he picks it up, without looking at the caller ID.

“Yeah.”

“House,” Foreman’s voice says. “You were right, she’s got-”

“Is it something that you absolutely need me for?” he snaps sharply, looking around the living room he shares with Wilson.

There’s a silence for a second and House can hear other voices as Foreman consults with other members of the team. Just as House is about to go ahead and hang up, Foreman’s voice is back in his ear. “We know how to treat it…”

“Do it. Only bother calling me back if she dies.” He hangs the phone up and looks at the clock again. 11:45 PM.

He can’t wait anymore and dials another number.

*****

When there’s a loud knock on her door at 12:05 in the morning, Cuddy knows exactly who it is.

When she opens the door and sees the look on House’s face and the retort she was planning to make dies on her lips.

“Wilson’s missing.”

Cuddy opens the door and lets him in.

“What?”

“He should have been home almost two hours ago,” House says, limping past her in a rush. “I got worried, called Mercy…he left almost three hours ago. I called our hospital, no sign of him there either. I called his cell and it’s going straight to voicemail.”

Cuddy exhales shakily. “I’ll make some calls…I have contacts to all of the hospitals between here and New York…I’ll…”

House is shaking his head. “I want you to drive me up there, help me look for him.”

“House,” she says urgently. “He might not even be in New York…he could be anywhere between here and New York Mercy. Let me drive you home, just in case he was just running really late and goes there. You can try his cell on the way. What about his parents?”

“He wouldn’t go to them, they’ve been having a…difference of opinion on the subject of Danny. Same with his other brother.”

House stops and Cuddy can see he’s gearing up to argue some more. She puts a hand on his shoulder. “Let me drive you home.”

He takes a shuddering breath…and nods.

“Good,” she says. “Let me wake up Rachel, okay? I’ll put her back to sleep at your place, and I will start those phone calls.”

House nods again, looking worn out and forlorn. She squeezes his arm again.

Ten minutes later, they’re going into the loft, House ahead of her, throwing the door open as though he’s thinking that Wilson had better be in there.

She’s not altogether surprised when he’s not. Disappointed and worried, yes. But not surprised and she lays Rachel down on the couch as House moves to search both of the bedrooms.

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she dials a number and when someone picks up on the other end she says:

“Hi, yes, my name is Doctor Lisa Cuddy…”

*****

House is sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the numbers on the clock that are saying 12:35 am and he wants to toss it at the wall.

When the clock turns to 12:42, he hears Cuddy’s voice yelling his name. He limps back out to the living room, expecting to see Cuddy in tears, telling him she’s found Wilson at some hospital in rural New Jersey.

But she’s not in the living room…she’s at the door and he moves to stand next to her, sees what she sees and his mouth nearly drops open in surprise.

“Do you know this man?” A New Jersey Trooper asks, gesturing to Wilson, who has bandage over a small cut on his head.

“Yes,” Cuddy says, when House doesn’t answer. “That’s James Wilson.”

The other trooper nods. “He and another guy were picked up at a rest stop. He told us this is where he lives.”

“It is. What’s his B.A.L.?” House asks, finally, because something here seems a little off.

“Actually,” Trooper number 1 says. “He’s not drunk. His companion, though, was almost twice over.”

“Who was his companion?” Cuddy asks slowly.

They all look at Wilson, who just stares expressionlessly into the loft. Trooper number two looks at them and shrugs. “An Adam Wilson. Says he’s this guy’s brother."

House nods. “Thanks,” he says, grabbing Wilson’s arm. “We’ve got it from here.”

Before the troopers can say much else, House shuts the door in their faces and turns Wilson around. Sharing a glance with Cuddy, he guides Wilson to one of the arm chairs when he remembers Rachel is on the couch.

“I’m going to put her in the guest room,” Cuddy says, picking up her daughter, who’s awake and blinking at them sleepily.

House doesn’t say anything in response to that and instead turns to Wilson.

“What happened?”

Wilson says nothing and House rolls his eyes. “Fine. I can take a guess. Your parents wouldn’t come…but you somehow got a hold of Adam and talked him into it.”

Wilson’s eyes glance at him and House takes that as a yes.

“And it didn’t go well?”

Still, Wilson won’t talk and House gets frustrated. He sets his cane down and pulls the coffee table over, so he can sit in front of him.

“Wilson, didn’t you say you’d let me help?”

Wilson exhales and closes his eyes tightly. “I feel so stupid.”

House wants to cheer at having gotten him to talk, but instead just leans forward. “Talk to me.”

“Adam,” Wilson swallows. “Adam didn’t tell me he was coming. I kept trying to call him, and he was either screening my calls or….no, that’s probably what he was doing. So, I went around him this afternoon. Talked to Wendy.”

The wife, House remembers. He looks to the side to see Cuddy sitting gracefully on the couch, completely silent. She nods encouragingly at him and House turns back to Wilson.

“She must have talked him into it,” Wilson continues. “Because when I got there tonight he was in the waiting room, too. I could tell he’d been drinking, he reeked of beer. I tried to tell him that maybe tonight wasn’t the best night, we could come back later. He wouldn’t do it. We went in. Danny must have been able to tell something was wrong…and with the difficulties he’s been having with his meds lately…they started arguing. Danny was getting agitated, so I got Adam out of there. We left his car there, and I was going to drive him to a hotel near us…let him sleep it off and he could take a cab to get his car tomorrow.”

Good, House thinks. He was going to protest if Wilson said he had the intention of taking his asshole sibling to get his car.

“How did you end up at that rest stop?”

“Apparently,” Wilson says bitterly. “Arguing with our schizophrenic brother while completely wasted wasn’t enough of a thrill. He started having a go at me.”

House remembers Wilson’s uncertainty when he’d left his office earlier, and curses that the one night he can’t go, is the one night that the shit hits the fan.

“So I pulled over at the next place I could. Which happened to be a rest stop. He was pissed, got out of the car, was yelling. People around us were watching. I didn’t know what else to do. Before I knew it, I was telling him that I was a complete idiot to think he could get himself together to do this and that I’d made a mistake in getting him involved. That didn’t make him any less pissed. He hit me.” He points to his head. “And someone called the cops. They arrested both of us, but since I wasn’t the drunk one, they let me off with a warning. They’re letting him sleep it off in a cell tonight, after calling and telling Wendy.” He shakes his head. “Stupid…”

“Wilson,” Cuddy says, coming over to sit next to House on the table. “That’s not your fault.”

“Why do you guys keep telling me that?” Wilson says angrily. “It’s because I couldn’t get over my own goddamned fears that had me ignore my own brother for so long. Then, even though I know he’s an alcoholic jack-ass, I call my other brother, selfishly hoping it could be the three of us again, to get involved and he does and completely screws it up. That’s my fault. He wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t called.”

“Wilson, for god’s sake.” House says urgently, grabbing Wilson’s fingers roughly. “You can’t control other people’s actions. Haven’t we learned this before? The dumbass didn’t have to be drunk. He didn’t have to be a complete jerk. As for the other…we’ve talked about this. Repeatedly. Trying to protect yourself from him hurting you doesn’t make you a coward.”

“Yes, it does,” Wilson answers through gritted teeth. “It does.”

“No it doesn’t,” Cuddy says softly. “It would if he were…he were someone that you know doesn’t have a history of leaving. You told me what really happened…how he was getting violent. If he was someone who was just an ordinary brother who was trying to have a relationship with you and you ignored him, then, yes, you would be a coward. This is not that type of situation.”

“Listen to the woman.” House cocks his head toward her. “She has enough sense for the both of us.”

Wilson smiles gently. “That’s true.”

“See?” Cuddy smiles, lays her hand on top of one of Wilson’s, still enfolded in one of House’s. “A ringing endorsement.”

Wilson nods slowly. “I’ll try. Thanks.”

“Any time,” Cuddy answers squeezing their hands and letting go, before standing up. “I need to get my kid up and home.”

“You’re welcome to stay here,” Wilson says. “It’s late and you’ve already woken her once.”

With a glance at House, who is looking at her as though she’d be an idiot not to stay, Cuddy considers this, and then nods. The bed in the guestroom is big enough to share for the night. “Thank you. We’ll take you up on that.”

“Least I could do,” Wilson responds. 

Cuddy leans down and kisses his cheek. “Goodnight.”

Their voices echo behind her as she closes the door and un-tucks the blankets from around her child.

*****

Wilson squeezes House's fingers. “I’m sorry I freaked you out.”

“Hey, I was just worried you were leaving me out of the fun,” he retorts.

Wilson doesn’t look amused, he just looks exhausted. “Yeah. Fun.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it,” House says quietly.

“I know you, remember? If you needed to be there for your patient, you needed to be there for your patient. Besides, he would’ve just had a go at you, too,” Wilson answers with a shrug. “No use in both of us being ridiculed.”

“Maybe.” House holds up his cane. “But he wouldn’t have been able to lay a hand on you if I’d been there.”

Wilson shakes his head. “That’s the second time, and other brother, that you’ve threatened to beat up with your cane. Should I be worried?”

“I’m offended you would even ask such a question.”

“So, that would be a yes.”

“Of course it is.”

Wilson laughs softly and the knot of nerves in House’s stomach eases, the knot he hadn’t even realized was there until it was gone.

“Time for bed,” House declares, pulling Wilson up. Instead of going anywhere, though, Wilson wraps his arms around his back and sighs.

“I’m going to go back next week,” Wilson says against his chest.

House reciprocates the embrace. “I’ll do my best to be there.”

Wilson leans back and kisses him lightly. “I know.”

House nods against the top of Wilson’s head.

“Time for bed, Wilson.”

“Right.”

Once they’re settled in bed, House turns on his side, regards Wilson carefully. “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you afraid you’ll have another nightmare?”

Wilson turns on his side to mirror House’s position. “Is that your way of asking me about it again?”

House shrugs. “Do you still not remember them?”

“I figured if I was already waking you up, then you didn’t deserve to be subjected to the details,” Wilson admits, guilt and remorse written all over his face.

Even after almost two years, House knows they’re both still navigating the waters of their relationship. He’s certainly seen that over the last few weeks, with the reemergence of Wilson’s brother in his life. He’s still adjusting to being in the condition to help Wilson when he needs it…and Wilson has to get used to asking for it. So, instead of chastising Wilson for not being more forthcoming again, he just grabs his lover’s hand and tugs on his fingers gently. Wilson smiles and takes a breath.

“It started right after that call from my mom in med school,” he explains. “I had this one recurring nightmare about Danny leaving, being found dead…me being called to ID the body…then suddenly everyone is standing around me, pointing and blaming me for his death. It changed a bit this time around, though. The new one…the new one had you as a front runner of the mob.”

House winces. “I can see why you wouldn't want to talk about it.”

“It wasn’t pleasant,” Wilson agrees. “But.... it’s just a really crappy nightmare.”

“You’re damn right it’s just a nightmare.”

Wilson’s eyes are closed as he releases a breathy chuckle. “Thanks. Hey, House?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you,” he says sleepily.

House blinks. He's has never said that out loud, and Wilson himself rarely says it. He makes a split second decision in that moment…he can see that Wilson’s drifting off, so he squeezes Wilson’s fingers until his eyes are open, and House is sure he’s awake.

“Love you too,” House answers in a low tone, as if he’s in a room full of people trying to tell Wilson a secret.

Wilson leans forward, kisses his forehead and House can feel the affectionate smile against his own skin.

The last thing he hears as he slips into sleep is “thank you” whispered into the air.

He has no idea what and who Wilson’s thanking, but he emphatically agrees, anyway.


End file.
